


Winner Take All

by TheDoctorsBride



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Tabris - Freeform, Lust, Mostly one-sided Alistair/Fem!Tabris, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Assault, Prostitution, Seduction, Seduction Bet, Sexual Content, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zevran Arainai - Freeform, Zevran/Fem!Tabris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorsBride/pseuds/TheDoctorsBride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a k!meme prompt. Zevran Arainai and Llewelyn Tabris are shamelessly sexual beings, with a palpable attraction to one another. So why haven't they given into their desires yet? Fed up with their flirtatious banter that goes nowhere, the other party members make bets as to which will succumb to the other's seduction first. It's a bet the elves are too happy to join in. And so the game begins...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winner Take All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before our favorite Antivan assassin bothers to show up, here's an introduction to this story's Warden, Llewelyn Tabris. Hope you enjoy!

As much as Llewelyn Tabris _hated_ the idea of venturing into yet another Thaig, especially since the group was freshly bathed for the first time in weeks, Shale wanted to know who she was. See where she came from. Llewelyn couldn't deny Shale that. At least not when Cadash Thaig was so close by.

Looking back, Llewelyn couldn't think of a good reason she'd picked Orzammar as their first destination. When leaving Lothering, no place had seemed better than the others, but they had to start somewhere didn't they?

Maybe Orzammar sounded like an adventure to her, exotic and exciting. Didn't hurt that it was as different from the Alienage as you could get, and the furthest from Denerim you could go without actually leaving Ferelden. What good was freedom if you didn't make the most of it? After a lifetime of walls and limits, maybe that had been the appeal. It seemed selfish and childish in hindsight. 

Really, Llewelyn never could have known the hellish nightmare that Orzammar would turn out to be. That didn't stop her from wanting to bang her damned head against a tree in the hopes it would dislodge the last month from her memory, though. 

_You gotta win the Proving. Oh wait, now clear out the Carta. Nope, sorry, not enough. Gotta find a flippin' Paragon._

Days, weeks, months-- time bled together in the blighted Deep Roads with no sun, no water, no sky, no air to breathe. There was only blood and sweat, and swarms of endless darkspawn. And then they got up close and personal with the Archdemon itself. For the very few seconds they were near it, its presence in her head was deafening. The nightmares only got worse after that. 

She didn't want to think about the Broodmother. She chose to believe it was one of those not-real things. The stupid Anvil of the Void was harder to forget with Shale around as walking proof of its horrors. Not to mention Oghren, who lost his wife because of her obsession with the blasted thing.

Still, what made her sick--what disgusted her so much she thought she would vomit--was Dust Town. 

Llewelyn had believed that the Alienage elves were the most oppressed, suffocated people in Thedas. Now, though, she admitted the casteless dwarves were even worse off. In the Alienage, at least the elves were more than just a community. They were a family. They may not have had much, but they had each other for support, for comfort and for love. The shemlen could hate them all they wanted.

The casteless... They were shunned and despised by their own people, and their own society forced them to be criminals and beggars because by law, they weren't allowed to do anything else. They couldn't have valid jobs, their very existence wasn't even recognized. They were hated by the rest of their kind, and they hated each other. But the worst part was that they hated themselves. For being born casteless.

It infuriated her to tears, much to the surprise of her traveling companions. They were saddened by the plight of the casteless dwarves, sure. But they didn't really understand the way she did. How could they? They hadn't lived their entire lives in forced poverty. They didn't know what it was to be looked at as animals, or worse: garbage. They'd never lived in a society that reviled their existence.

She'd intended to help Harrowmont take the throne. No part of her doubted that Bhelen had killed his siblings, maybe even his father for the throne. Bhelen was cold and manipulative. Harrowmont seemed gentler, if a bit weak-willed. But after seeing Dust Town with her own eyes, if there was even a chance that Bhelen would abolish the barbaric caste system, that the lives of the casteless or of the so-called "surface caste" could be improved, she bloody well needed to take it.

So Llewelyn and her group maneuvered a king onto the throne of Orzammar. The future of an entire culture, an entire race was forever changed at their hands. They bent a civilization to suit their purpose. Though she hoped she made the right decision and that things would change for the better, what right did her little group have to hold that much power over people's lives? What right did _she_ have?

Llewelyn knew that their mission was important. Stopping a rutting Blight and whatnot. But still... It all weighed so heavily on her shoulders. She was just a girl from the Alienage, barely even an adult and thrust into a world she'd never really been a part of before now. Trying to rally a nation. Why did people have to sodding keep looking at her like she should have all the answers?

 _I'm just a kid,_ she thought. _Doesn't anyone understand that?_

Alistair noticed Llewelyn's slumped shoulders as she walked, the faraway look in her eyes and her weary expression. He reached out to place a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, but she flinched so hard at his touch that she almost jumped backward. He withdrew his hand as quickly as if she'd burned him, his eyes wide with worry. His apology was instant, "I'm so sorry--I-I didn't mean to startle you... I'm sorry."

Llewelyn clutched her chest as tried to steady her erratic heartbeat, vaguely aware that the others were trying, with varying degrees of success, to pretend they weren't watching her now. She let out a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. "No Alistair, you didn't do... You did nothing wrong. I just--I was distracted. Sorry."

Their group continued toward Cadash Thaig in silence. After quite some time had passed, Alistair tried again. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her.

She looked up at him, her lips parting as she thought over her response, but whatever it was she never got the chance to say it.

A young woman with blonde hair came trotting up the path heading right for them. She stopped in front of Llewelyn and her companions just long enough to explain, with a breathless panic in her voice, "Oh, thank the Maker... We need help! They attacked the wagon-- please, help us! Follow me, I'll take you to them!" Without another word on the subject, the stranger hurried back the way she came, further into the canyon.

Llewelyn frowned, sighing in exasperation. The woman was a terrible actress. The fear in her voice never reached her eyes, her expression was remarkably calm, there was no blood on her, her clothes were still clean and unripped, and the haste she moved with was forced. Llewelyn didn't believe a word from the woman's mouth.

Leliana immediately strode to Llewelyn's side. "Maker," she breathed with her Orlesian lilt. "That was awful. Truly, ridiculously bad."

The elf woman nodded. "Yeah. About as subtle as if she walked up and smashed my head in with a log. While sporting a face tattoo that says, 'Let me escort you to our ambush.' Amateur. It's like they're not even trying. I'm mildly insulted!"

Sten and Shale were at full alert, ready for action. Morrigan rolled her eyes at Alistair's confused expression. Oghren was only just realizing that they had stopped walking. Llewelyn squared her shoulders, and all self-doubt and anxiety left the small woman's frame. She had no place in political machinations. But fighting. Battle strategy. This she could do, this she felt she was good at. She placed a hand on Leliana's arm, drawing the bard closer. The others leaned in to hear her.

"Alright, listen up." The elf spoke quickly, without hesitation, and with the tone of absolute authority her companions affectionately called her Leader Voice. "If they've set up any kind of halfway-decent ambush, they'll likely use that woman to draw us into a defendable bottle-neck in the canyon, then cut off our retreat. If it were me, I'd have archers on the canyon ridge itself, and ground troops hidden until we're far enough into the trap.

“Leliana, I need you to take the south side of the canyon. Go up the ridge and take out any attackers waiting to hit us from above. Be quick, quiet, and watch for any traps they might have been smart enough to set. Oh, and don't get caught. Can you do that?"

The bard nodded sharply, drawing a knife from her hip. "Of course. It is what I do, no?"

"Good. You can help out with your bow once you're sure you've cleared your side. Go now." The Orlesian cloaked herself in shadow and set off. 

Llewelyn turned to Alistair. "I'll be doing the same as Leliana on the opposite ridge. Alistair, you take the lead. Sten and Oghren will make up the ground force with you. Don't let them take you by surprise. We have the upper hand, we know they're there. Just keep focused and you'll be fine." 

She didn't wait for a response before turning to Shale and Morrigan. "Morrigan, hang back from the fighting. Stay hidden if you can. Just help out Alistair's team by throwing curses at the enemy to weaken them and trip them up. Hit them with all you've got if they pin you down, but concentrate on keeping our people from being overwhelmed."

The dark woman sighed, "I shall protect the buffoon, if I must."

Llewelyn raised a hand to stop Alistair's retort. "Shale, stay close to Morrigan. Keep the enemy off her. Kill anyone who tries to interfere with her."

"I will crush any of the fleshy things that attempt to squish the Swamp Witch," she asserted in her otherworldly voice. 

"Other than that, lob boulders at enemies. But not at our people," Llewelyn added.

"Ugh, I shall try to discern its flesh-creature allies from its foes."

Llewelyn kneeled to face her mabari, giving him a firm pat on the head. "Nelaros, stay here with the caravan. Look after Bodahn, Sandal and the emissary from Orzammar. Wow, they're all dwarves... Look after the dwarves, Nel."

The elf couldn't help a small smile as her warhound barked eagerly, hopping away to his assignment.

With that, Llewelyn returned to her friends and commanded them, "Alright we've wasted enough time talking this over. You know what to expect and you know what to do, now go. Go, go!"

As Llewelyn's companions made their final preparations she started towards her own task, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. Alistair withdrew his hand almost immediately, remembering her reaction earlier, but she only looked at him expectantly. 

"Wait! Um," he stammered. "Just making sure I understand correctly. You want me to knowingly lead us into a trap. To be ambushed. On purpose."

"Pretty much exactly that, yes."

Alistair blinked at her. "But... Won't they wonder why we took a few minutes to _fully arm ourselves_ before showing up?"

"Imagine for a second we had fallen for their tricks. Why wouldn't we prepare ourselves to face off against imaginary wagon-raiders? It's not our fault that woman walked off without bothering to make sure we were following her," she said with a huff at such negligence.

"Yes, but..." Alistair began again to voice his concerns. Llewelyn cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips.

She smiled gently at him. "You worry too much. It's cute, though." Llewelyn reveled in his wide-eyed, red-faced reaction to her flirtation, delighting in the way her charms always disarmed him. A light chuckle escaped her. "You'll be fine," she assured him, "Trust me." Backing away from him, she made sure to add a little sway to her hips--only enough to be noticed if you were watching. And Alistair certainly was watching, even if he didn't realize it. 

Llewelyn drew her twin daggers and turned to leave, but couldn't resist looking back over her shoulder at Alistair. "One more thing," she said, grinning when his lingering gaze snapped up to meet hers just a second too late. "Don't let yourself get too distracted. Wouldn't want you dying 'cause your eyes went wandering."

She gave her daggers a flourish with a knowing wink to her fellow Warden. He was so much fun to tease. Even as he blushed, she could practically see some witty line form in his mouth. But she turned her back to him and shrouded herself in darkness, disappearing from his sight before anything coherent could leave his lips.

 _Alright. We all better focus,_ Llewelyn thought, shaking her head to clear her mind. _Have to stay alert. There's trouble ahead. And even the best-made plans can't predict the future._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will assume you've played Dragon Age: Origins. It will not novelize the events of the game, but focus on the relationships between the characters. It will only recount enough of the main story to let you know where the characters are within the timeline. This fic will accompany canon with one major exception. But that's a story for another time.


End file.
